How Many Drinks Does it Take to Get to the Center of DCI River?
by x-La vie en rose-x
Summary: Just a bit of fluff for these amazing characters. Do own just having some fun.


Chrissie was buying tonight. It was a rough case. Lasted months. And it was finally over. The bar was buzzing a bit more loudly for a Wednesday night. A few more familiar faces. It was fun. Stevie scanned the crowd and gravitated toward her usual suspect. She smiled to herself. He looked miserable. Chrissie saw her line of sight an commented,

"You'd think he'd smile just a little."

"He will. He just needs a couple in him. It'll happen."

Chrissie nodded in agreement while Stevie continued, "I've almost got it down to a science.

One drink to loosen him.  
Two drinks to make him smile...but just barely.  
Three drinks he might make an stupid joke or start spouting off weird facts, like how the glue on Israeli postage is Kosher or how baby robins eat over four metres of earthworms every day.  
Four drinks he'll start to open up a bit and maybe if your lucky he'll laugh.  
Five drinks is when he usually shuts down and calls it a night."

"What happens after six drinks?"

"Six drinks...well, I'll tell you what he won't do...he won't bloody well kiss you, that's for sure. The coward." Stevie was on drink three. That was when Stevie became honest...

Chrissie looked a bit taken a back, "You've tried?"

"I've tried. He so bloody tall that there's only so far up one can go before he has to come down to meet you." Her hand gestures wildly describing her past efforts.

"Well, you could always just try kissing him when you're both sitting down." Chrissie said happy with her solution.

"Yeah, I guess. But I want him to want to. I wouldn't want to force myself on him!"

"Why? I would." Chrissie, also on her third drink was also honest and a little bit horney.

Stevie's eyebrows rose at her admission.

"Come on you've thought it."

"Yes, I know... I told you, just now... a minute ago. But I'm ...not married," pointing to her ring-less left hand.

"Yeah, well I would if I wasn't married and if I was...if I am...I mean I know I'm married but... look at him. Who wouldn't want to climb him like a tree and then chop away at his body with your body...I mean my body...damn..." she swung her arms around sloshing a little of her drink.

"Yep, I'm pissed."

Stevie looked over at him. Second beer in hand.

"Fuck, I need to snog something" she said it as he looked over at her, her face serious and wanting. He furrowed his brow looking like he wondered what he'd done to deserve what could only look like a scowl. But he didn't get it. He didn't see the yearning, only frustration. So she gave him a slight smile to indicate he was off the hook for his unknown crimes against her.

And then she would wait. Wait for him to drink almost too much, just enough to make him laugh but not too much to make him forget himself and his reservations and offer her a shared taxi to see her home safely.

The time came...time to share that all too familiar quiet taxi ride.

For him to see her to her door.

For him to say, 'See you tomorrow.' and go home.

But she was tired of familiar. She wanted different tonight.

At her door waiting for her keys to open the lock he hovered closely behind her. She opened and turned, lifted on her step, just a bit closer to her goal. She could kiss him and he wouldn't have any choice. She could reach all the way up to him. But she didn't. Instead she asked, "Coffee?" She was surprised when he said, "Yes."

She smiled softly and stepped in. He followed. She stopped and turned to him. She forgot to turn off the kitchen light that morning. In the soft light she saw his weary features.

He was staring at her.  
Just looking down, into her eyes.  
Her breathing became the slightest bit panicked. When her words were out and the question asked.

"Spend the night with me..."

She didn't know where the bold question came from...or was it a statement? Either or, when he replied she thought she'd die.

His voice hoarse, yet thick as and smooth as syrup, "Yes."

His hands reached out, fingers tucking just under her coat. He easily lifted it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Her mind was swirling every which way; her senses heightened despite her drink. She could hear the blood rushing in her head. Her mouth moistened. Her body singing with anticipation. He stepped closer and closer.

She had to look up at him. And she waited. Waited for him to make the first move towards her lips.  
He swayed there.  
Swayed into her and his hand gently touched her cheek.  
His fingers lightly grazing down her neck, curling to the back of her head lifting her up slightly towards him as he leaned down to capture her in his mouth.

_Fuck_, he tasted good, her mind swirling.

Her whole body lit up and her arms found his neck, pulling him down and pushing herself up, up, up to him. His moan in her mouth and her name in his throat was incredible. She wanted to wrap her legs around him and never let go. His lips traveled to her cheek, to her ear. Soft nibbles sending her body into a crazed frenzy of nerves. She started to take his coat off. And then the dance of undressing whilst walking, tripping ... stumbling to the bedroom commenced.

'Lucky Seven' it was then.


End file.
